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thanksgiving poem

eu disse, mim fechei meu coração
agora para uma luta viva e cheerful
mas eu não posso lê-lo agora
disse
pela ponte rude
a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
quem é o corredor nos céus
quando o véu dos olhos for levantado
e como poderia você sonho da reunião
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
como uma vela branca
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer

 



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